


You Should Be Kissed

by forlornfortuity



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 18:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10168793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forlornfortuity/pseuds/forlornfortuity
Summary: I’ll be using for inspiration the line: “You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how,” from Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind. This is an AU where Arima Kishou is a florist, and Aura Kiyoko is a secretary who regularly drops by his shop.





	

Business was bustling, patrons came and went like the shift in seasons. Myriad faces, none the same, as days passed instantaneously. A growing appreciation for a languid pace was a change that Arima could espouse. However, a persistent presence materialized before him. A countenance as familiar as the delphinium black eyed angels that bloomed each summer en masse. Truly a spectacular display of natural beauty and magnificence, the same could be said about the lone woman who frequented his store on quieter evenings.

Genuine inquisitiveness about soil quality, factoids regarding flora from different regions, habitats, or even geological periods absorbed him. Well read and highly knowledgeable in both theory and practice, he found himself answering her queries with gusto and silent admiration. To be able to supply understanding to his curious customers made his heart swell with joy. It was lamentable most that stopped by were not much for conversation, leaving him dreadfully withdrawn to his own passion. Around her, he found himself expounding in great detail anything she wished to learn, going as far as to propose some books suited to her undying interest.

If he could instill in someone his love for wildlife, his job at the end of the day had a greater sense of fulfillment. Unbeknownst to the ivory haired florist, it was she who had inculcated something far deeper within him. Those seeds she planted would take root, and effloresce into a distant feeling he once thought lost.

Whenever a purchase was made, the delicate silken brush of her fingers along his palm caused a warmth to spread across his features. He wondered if she even noticed, the gentle smile upon her visage never faltering throughout the transaction. Even as she left, the redolence of her perfume still filled his shop, saliently drowning out the scent of his plants and herbs. Or was it simply his imagination? An inconceivable yearning for a ravishing stranger?

Troubling was the thought of her never coming back to his establishment. What if she were to go some place beyond his reach? One where his feelings couldn’t reach her. His dreams were filled with red spider lilies, an ominous sigil that he’d be nothing less than a lost memory. Jostled awake, hard thumps against his rib cage slowly dwindled as deep breaths were taken. Small beads of sweat trickled along his forehead, but he’d pray for the contrary. Against all odds, that she would return one evening, to grace him with her poise, and rekindle his fascination.

Regrettably, weeks passed, and there was no sign of her. Where could she have gone? Was wishing for a single opportunity to see her again too much to ask for? Rue besieged him, his reluctance to inquire the woman’s name, to even let her know how her sense of being allured him. In a way, if this was punishment, it was well deserved for hesitating. He didn’t want the ember of endearment to fade. Steadfastly, he clung to hope, even on the days his store felt barren in spite of all the wondrous pigmentation encompassing him.

One eventide, unmistaken footsteps echoed through the interior of his shop. High heels tapping the floor with each supple step, her hair tied in its usual style, but with a new ribbon. Instead of her usual white one, she wore a bright pink one that matched the color tinting her full lips. Hollows of cheeks became alit, a flush of red staining his otherwise pallid complexion. Before he could usher her in, she spoke first, startling him. “The color suits you.” Nervously, long digits adjusted his spectacles upon the bridge of his nose. How observant of her and useless of him to try to conceal it now. “Good evening, and welcome back.” A trimmed brow was raised in intrigue, his reception was so heartfelt, it almost felt like coming home. “Thank you. I missed coming here and seeing your face.” Raising a palm to her mouth, she laughed softly. Her laughter was as divine as a choir of angels singing, Arima’s blush only darkened.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” He managed the question without stuttering, a feat he thought unfeasible. Perhaps it was the ambience and lush smell of greenery that helped ease his nerves. “Yes, would you honor me with your name, dear?” That was not something he was expecting to have to answer, but he wouldn’t deny her a response. He could very well learn her cognomen, as well. His lips stretched slightly into a small but jovial smile. “Arima Kishou. Yours?”

“It’s Aura Kiyoko.” A lovely name befitting a person equally so. He tugged lightly at his apron, clearing his throat. This time he would not vacillate and stepped out from behind the counter, grasping a gardenia he had been reserving for her. Not a man capable of expressing fondness through words, his actions instead would. Arm extended, holding the flower for her to grasp. That single gardenia embodied the profundity of his feelings, the rest was up to her. In one of the books he had recommended, she read the symbolism of different flowers and plants. He didn’t need to speak, the secret love that blossomed was fruit of their meetings and conversations. “I accept your feelings.” His heart rate quickened, he hadn’t entertained the notion of her requiting his affection.

He made his way to the door of the shop, changing the sign from open to closed, before approaching her once more. Framed eyes bore into the cerulean depths of her own, he could feel himself drifting in them like a cloud in the sky. “Your lips, they look so terribly lonely…” This snapped him out of his internalized infatuation and he was surprised that her hand rested on his shoulder as she stood on the tips of her toes. She didn’t quite kiss him, but resumed her statement. “They require frequent company.” Lids closed, as he leaned down to receive the tender kiss. When she pulled away, his strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against the musculature of his body. He kissed her deeply, pouring all the emotions he repressed for so long. Her free hand stroked his cheek, moving higher to run her fingers through the satiny white tendrils of his hair.

For someone whose lineaments were icy and went well with the cold, his body was so warm. She could almost dissolve in his tight embrace, and he could lose himself in the petal-like softness of her lips. When he withdrew, there was a visible dusting of pink along her nose and cheeks. The sight of it, caused his own to burn in a similar hue. Bringing the flower up to him, he leaned down to inhale its aroma as she held it. In a coquettish tone, she spoke once again. “There will be copious amounts of those and I do not mean the flowers.” With a slight chuckle, he brushed his thumb against the mole below her lip fondly. “Oh? Then what?” It was her chance and she giggled. “Kisses of course, silly.”

Certain embarrassment seized him, he walked right into that one. “Will you accompany me home? It’s late and I’d feel at ease with you by my side.” Arima only nodded, going for a moonlit stroll with Aura not as mere acquaintances, but as lovers seemed like a wonderful first date. Large palm enveloping her smaller own, he gave a light squeeze. “You’re covered in lipstick,” she snickered. “I am?” Confusion ever apparent in his tonality. “Don’t worry about it,” she yanked at his apron, pressing several kisses to both his cheeks and another to his pale lips. “You’ll be covered in plenty more marks.” Whether her words were suggestive or not, Kishou found himself equally magnetized and galvanized by her seductive turn of phrase. “As will you.”

This night would prove enchanting, as two lonesome souls united in a companionship as ineffable as the ardent adoration that brought them together.


End file.
